


so sick

by candybank



Series: these are the best days of your life [2]
Category: SEVENTEEN (Band)
Genre: M/M, Smut, hmm fwb?, is it mutual wink wink, kindof, sad pathetic pining, the soonhoon leg of this series
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-31
Updated: 2019-07-31
Packaged: 2020-07-28 00:43:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,991
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20055256
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/candybank/pseuds/candybank
Summary: a casual “oh, hey” is jihoon’s greeting when he walks into the small study room that soonyoung reserved for their tutoring session. oh hey, like his jeans aren’t scraped from kneeling on the floor of soonyoung’s dorm. oh hey, like soonyoung has never fucked him against the bathroom wall.





	so sick

**Author's Note:**

> helloo this was supposed to be chapter two of [dead kittens](https://archiveofourown.org/works/19213951) but i said yk what im gonna make it a diff fic for absolutely no reason. all u need to know is soonyoung and minghao are roomies c:
> 
> wrote this a loooong time ago during cancer szn and An eclipse no less so, safe to say its the garbagest thing i've ever written. i think i planned to write more for this but it just started rotting in my drafts so....im publishing it!!1 and adding on later maybe. 
> 
> anyway..cancer season is finally over, theres a chance u might enjoy this fic<3mwa

“grabmyballsgrabmyballsgrabmyballs—” the words come out choked, squeaked out in between slapping skin and heads thrown back and teeth and lips.

jihoon pulls his mouth off of soonyoung’s dick to glare up at him, but soonyoung doesn’t see the daggers being thrown his way; too busy with his eyes shut tight and his neck craned to the sky and when he feels the warmth disappear from around his cock, he opens his mouth to ask about it. but his body feels like a tight rope one second away from snapping, dangling off a ledge, trying not to fall to the sea. it’s not  _ that _ romantic, really he just feels like his body’s on fire, like he’s suddenly been submerged into the winter sea, and it makes him panic.

almost like a reflex, he blindly reaches down to jack himself off. he does it so thoughtlessly and so purposefully that there is no time to react between the groaning, jihoon wanting to laugh at him, and soonyoung coming all over his face.

and soonyoung has done this so many times before that jihoon doesn’t even think about complaining. he only sighs, reaches for the hem of soonyoung’s shirt, and wipes the sticky substance off of his face with it.

“hey, what the fuck—”

“it’s _your_ mess,” jihoon rapidly fires back, getting off of his knees and wiping his mouth on the back of his arm for good measure. 

soonyoung takes his shirt off and tosses it into the hamper, just barely missing the shot.

“you’re bad at this,” jihoon tells him as he ties his shoelaces.

“at what?”

jihoon grabs his backpack off of the bed and slings it over his shoulder. “fucking,” he answers, headed for the door.

soonyoung is pulling on a new shirt when he laughs. “aw, come on, i’m good. i mean, you’re here, right?”

with his hand on the knob, jihoon pauses to laugh, “it’s called a birthday gift, soonyoung. it’s common courtesy.”

“common courtesy to put my dick in your mouth?” soonyoung teases, “by that logic, i was raised in a barn and i’ve been fucking rude to all my friends my whole life.”

it’s easy laughter and heavy air, and tense conversations that are never had. it’s soonyoung always opening his mouth to speak and saying nothing at all, and it’s jihoon looking like he never has anything to say. sometimes, soonyoung feels like jihoon is a dream. passing, fleeting, surreal. he has wondered before if he’s real, and now, he holds off pinching himself so he can dream a little longer.

it’s his birthday, after all, and he can dream if he wants to.

“hey, you wanna go for coffee or something?” he asks boldly, hoping he doesn’t sound as hopeful as he thinks he does.

“no,” comes jihoon’s answer, curt, followed by the door clicking shut.

***

minghao gets him a cupcake with too much icing and a tiny yellow candle. he leaves it on his study table with a sticky note that says, ‘won’t be back tonight. let’s celebrate this weekend. happy b-day, bro!’. for absolutely no reason at all, soonyoung eats the entire thing in one bite. it goes down the wrong hole and he almost dies trying to drink it down.

his entire life flashes before his eyes, and he realizes it’s a lot of looking at himself in the mirror and bad pick-up lines. it’s a lot of boring birthdays and cheap gifts, and scrolling through his incredibly long contact list for a single person to call a friend.

‘roommate’s out until tomorrow. come by,’ he types into his phone and hits send, shame easy to swallow when he pretends it tastes like orange juice. he’s in the middle of watching a funny video of a turtle running away from a cop when the notification pops up.

**Jihoon  
1 New Message**

‘busy,’ it reads, and soonyoung feels the overwhelming need to be severely intoxicated.

he scrolls to ‘AAA’ on his contact list and hits call. five rings pass before the line is picked up, and soonyoung is happy to finally have something to be thankful for.

“hey, seokmin.”

***

“that fucking sucks, man,” seokmin says over empty cans of soda and soju, and another bag of chips inhaled. soonyoung is talking about someone, a boy, jihoon, how soonyoung doesn’t understand him, how soonyoung wants to fuck him, or to get fucked by him, in the ass instead of the head. and seokmin is sure that he’s friends with this jihoon, sure that he knows this jihoon by association, sure that he might have a class or two with this jihoon, but between inebriation and intoxication and three hours of drinking games, he’s not really sure about anything. he’s not sure if he can see straight, not sure if he would kiss soonyoung back if soonyoung kissed him right now.

not that he puts a lot of thought into soonyoung kissing him, definitely not. it’s just that it’s late, and when he gets this drunk this late, his mind has the tendency to race. olympic track star. cross country.

“hey, we should start running,” seokmin says, blowing cigarette smoke into the air, “like, jogging, you know, to get fit and shit. right now, or tomorrow morning, you know.”

“yeah, for sure,” soonyoung laughs, cheeks bunching up and eyes folding shut. he can’t make sense of the words coming out of his own mouth, and trying to read seokmin’s lips in an effort to understand the words coming out of his only ends with his head against the sofa, neck bent at a weird angle, cigarette against the carpet.

***

“jesus, soonyoung. i leave you for literally one night and you burn down our dorm?” minghao doesn’t mean to sound so mean, but the dorm advisor told him that they’re lucky they caught the fire quick or else it would have burned down their entire room. he’s thinking of the projects sitting by his bed, of the books and his notebooks on his table, and he’s not thinking much about soonyoung--he’s sure soonyoung would have saved himself just fine.

“i said i’m sorry, alright?”

minghao sighs. he thinks to say i’m glad you’re alright, but the thought passes as quickly as it had come. the dorm advisor comes out of their room and tells them that they have to move out for the weekend, we don’t have any available dorms, if you don’t have friends to stay with, let me know and i’ll assign you a room.

***

“why were you smoking anyway? you never smoke,” minghao asks as he stuffs his clothes into a bag and tries to fit his pencils into a suitcase. mingyu had agreed to let him stay over the weekend, more than happy to do it since his roommate was “going to be away on a retreat with his boyfriend.” and so, stupidly confident that he’ll be getting a lot of work done, minghao tucks a weekend’s work of homework away.

soonyoung is zipping up his backpack of books when he hears the question. thinking back to it makes his head throb, so he doesn’t answer.

“hey?”

“it’s jihoon,” soonyoung says with a quiet sigh, if only to make minghao stop talking, because he’s sure he still has half a hangover, “he came over yesterday.” soonyoung says it like it’s a lengthy explanation for the burnt carpet and his pissy mood, so minghao doesn’t pry.

“right,” minghao says, slinging his bag over his shoulder, “well, you know what you always say. you have his number. ask him out. get drinks. fuck.”

soonyoung throws a used sock at him.

***

as much as soonyoung doesn’t want to think about jihoon, he can’t stop. it’s cheesy, he knows, but he sees jihoon everywhere he goes. he hears his name in the songs on the radio and he thinks of him every time he passes the baskin robbins where they had their first date. (jihoon says it was just him doing homework by himself and soonyoung coming over to talk to him, but soonyoung  _ knows _ it was a date.)

sure, any spoon shiny enough can take his mind off of jihoon just as easily as the wind blowing can remind him of jihoon, but still. he frequently finds himself wanting to be around jihoon, wanting to tell his jokes to jihoon, wanting to laugh at the unamused face jihoon pulls when he hears the jokes, wanting his dick to be inside jihoon’s mouth, wanting jihoon pressed up against his bed and the wall and—

“pencils down. pass your papers.”

soonyoung sighs at the blank test sheet in front of him.

***

“i’m ‘gonna fucking fail calculus again,” soonyoung groans, head hung low, and minghao is kind enough to spare him a look.

“do you want to talk about it?”

“what? no, i wasn’t talking to you.”

minghao stares at soonyoung for a minute before rolling his eyes and going back to his half-finished bowl of noodles. “can you stop talking to your dick in public, it’s fucking weird.”

“ _ you’re _ fucking weird,” soonyoung fires back, “you won’t even name yours.”

“ _ who _ names their dick?”

“ _ everyone _ ,” soonyoung spits, shoveling a forkful of pasta into his mouth, “did you even bother to get mingyu junior’s last name before you shoved him up your ass?”

minghao chucks a whole loaf of bread directly at soonyoung’s head. “you’re fucking gross. shut the fuck up.

and get a tutor. if you fail this sem, you’ll be held back a year.”

***

he wonders if it’s by mistake or pure design that jihoon is the only math tutor available on mondays and wednesdays, 5-7 pm. when his life became a sitcom-drama, he doesn’t know, but he begrudgingly signs the request form and writes jihoon’s name down under ‘preferred instructor.’ he wonders if this is the universe’s way of saying well, here you go, you fuck up, here’s everything you deserve.

a casual “oh, hey,” is jihoon’s greeting when he walks into the small study room that soonyoung reserved for their tutoring session. oh hey, like his jeans aren’t scraped from kneeling on the floor of soonyoung’s dorm. oh hey, like soonyoung has never fucked him against the bathroom wall.

jihoon sits down, takes out his books, his pencils and his papers. and soonyoung wants to know how jihoon can sit not a foot away from him and not think about closing the blinds and fucking on the table. (minghao will say soonyoung, you have a problem, and soonyoung will argue that he doesn’t.)

“hey,” soonyoung responds belatedly, and jihoon gives him a look. narrows his eyes and laughs at him, head tilted to one side like he isn’t the most gorgeous thing within a fifty-mile radius. it makes soonyoung sick.

soonyoung coughs the vomit out of his throat, surprised that he gets through two hours of math and only falls asleep twice. surprised that he actually goes home with jihoon that night.

***

seokmin walks in on a naked body laying belly-up like a dead goldfish on his sheets at half past five in the morning. it’s the weekend, and soonyoung has barely woken up. still disoriented, still trying to remember how he fell asleep.

“oh, god,” seokmin covers his eyes, “put that thing away, soonyoung. it’s so tiny.”

soonyoung tries to kick him, and seokmin laughs when he misses. he sits on the edge of the bed and runs his fingers through his messy hair.

“got back late,” seokmin says—a factual statement, not an apology.

“what time is it?” soonyoung asks, drowsily looking around and remembering that he’s in seokmin’s dorm room. “wait,” he sits up, looks around, “jihoon’s gone?”

“jihoon was here?” it takes seokmin a few seconds of staring at his sheets to put the puzzle together. “oh my g— you had sex on my bed?! come on, soonyoung, gross—”

“i’ll buy you new sheets,” soonyoung promises, head collapsing back onto the pillow, trying to smother his sadness with cotton.


End file.
